


History's Witness

by Stricklanderkin (bl00dw1tch)



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Changelings, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sad and Happy, bc spoilers :3c, finally adds all the other niche tags i need, my goal is to make people cry and i will pull every stunt in my arsenal to succeed in this endeavor, not quite canon compliant but when i get to the in show stuff thatll mostly stay canon, stricklers gonna have so much emotional baggage, unrequited familial feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bl00dw1tch/pseuds/Stricklanderkin
Summary: Gunmar had no idea what he'd brought into the world by picking up that green little hatchling. A witness who would see and experience all the things no other changeling could possibly dream of. A thinker of profound, yet subtle revolutionary thoughts. An agent of destruction and creation. A keystone in both human and troll history. The catalyst of the most subtle yet colossally vital bits of said histories.The closest companion of his only son.The father figure of his undoing.And the leader of a movement nothing less than the antithesis of his own.Formerly titled "Stalklings are as Unpredictable and Dangerous as they are Uncontrollable".





	1. Chapter 1

Gunmar sat in his private quarters, lounging in a nest of bones and leather, his hands cupped carefully around his precious son, only just hatched. 

The only son out of all the clutches his harem had produced--he’d hatched much later than his hundreds of sisters, who’d already been sent off to be nursed somewhere else, to be raised into warriors. But this whelp… This small, black, simpering whelp, was going to stay by Gunmar’s side. This whelp would spend his childhood growing up into a heir worthy of his father’s position, and the Underlord would make sure of it.

The whelp squeaked and squirmed in his hands, grabbing and trying to gnaw on one of his fingers. Gunmar chuckled, gently knocking the little one to the side. It shrieked once in response, reaching out to grab the finger again to take revenge. 

“My lord, the caretaker has arrived.” A guard by his cave’s entrance announced.

“Send her in.” He ordered, almost in a bored tone of voice. That meant he would have to leave, to allow the Whelp to bond with the caretaker. He wished he’d had longer with his son right now, but he did have duties to attend to.

The troll who walked in was regal in stance, but not elegant, or particularly beautiful, in Gunmar’s eyes, but that was fine. She just needed to know how to keep his offspring in good health as he grew. She knelt into a bow, “Your Greatness.” she greeted. Gunmar just huffed, allowing her to stand.

“What have you named your heir?” she asked.

Gunmar looked at her, then down at his child again for a few long moments before deciding, “Bular.”

The whelp let out a pathetic growl in response, little claws bearing into his hands. Gunmar chuckled again in spite of himself. The lady grinned, “A good name for a Leader.” 

Gunmar stood, walking forward and handing his son off to the other troll, his chest already swelling with a sense of pride, “I know.”

He left feeling a lot better than he’d expected to, the caretaker following suit to go find her way to the nursery. Gunmar made his way out to the throne room, looking around it before an idea popped into his mind. Even he needed an advisor from time to time, and he’s always wished to have one stay loyal with him from the start. Perhaps… Yes. He had a wonderful idea, indeed.

He began to make his way to the stalkling caverns. 

He didn’t know if it was luck, or perhaps fate, that a particular stalkling’s clutch had just hatched. One of his dear favorites. She was powerful and fierce, and had seen Gunmar through many a battle. Though she was retired to breeding stock due to age and injury, she still was his most prized pet.

He walked past all the workers tending to the other stalklings, straight to the back of the cave where her nest lay in a cut out from the wall. She watched him carefully with narrowed eyes but was otherwise unbothered.

Gunmar stopped in front of her, reaching out and rubbing the underside of her jaw with his knuckles. She keened and purred, eyes shut and at ease. The underlord gently lifted her wing, finding a nestful of small, screeching baby stalklings. Better yet, they all looked strong and in perfect health. 

His hand shifted and he pinned the mother’s head to the side of the cave, blocking her sight before reaching in and grabbing one. It was strikingly green, an uncommon color to find in a stalkling. The little creature cried out in distress over being torn away from its mother’s warm, inviting scent. 

The mother stalking screeched and hissed in retaliation over having her hatchling taken away. Gunmar held her in place, closing his fist gently but securely around the hatchling, barking an order for some guards to keep her at bay while he left. 

There was a chance she’d try to leave and kill him later, resulting in her being put down, but Gunmar didn’t care that much about her to find that disheartening. His focus was entirely on the little winged creature nestling in his palm, shaking like a leaf in the breeze. 

Next, he left to go to the changeling quarters. 

That area was large--it had to be, to house the nursing whelps, the uncharged adults, as well as training grounds, education and living spaces. On top of those, there was the cave saved for magic work. A place to commit the horrible deed that created changelings. That was his destination.

The changelings all seemed startled and terrified to have the Underlord in their quarters. This often didn’t happen unless something horrible happened, or was going to happen. The ‘bounce’ in his step, and the overall pleasant aura he had, implied the latter. 

The magic workers in that cave all jumped and scrambled to bow. He waved them off, walking up to the overseer, “Which of these are empty?” 

He was, of course, referring to the numerous cauldrons splayed about the room, bubbling and curdling disgustingly, pure white light emanating from them. The overseer was quick to jump down from his pedestal and guide him to one, “This one, my Lord. What would you like to have changed?” the inferior troll inquired.

Gunmar opened his hand, “This.” 

He did not wait for instruction before holding out his hand, turning it over, and dropping the poor hatchling into the shining fluid. The overseer nearly screamed, “W-Wait, Lord Gunmar, was that a stalkling?! We have never--we’ve never tried to change those before, this could end in disaster!!!”

Gunmar grabbed the troll by its horns, “Be quiet. I will stay until it is complete.” 

The overseer still had doubts, “Your Greatness, I-I understand that it may work, but stalklings, they are… They are as unpredictable and dangerous as they are uncontrollable! Whatever comes out may be strong, but what if we can’t control it? What if it won’t take orders?” the troll urged, even though he knew it was too late for anything to really be done.

Gunmar shoved him to the side, crossing his arms, “That will be none of your concern. I have plans for the impure that it will become. You lot will only have to raise it to standard strength and intelligence, then I will be taking it off your hands.” He said with certainty and a smirk. 

~~~

It was so hot it was cold and so bright he was certain he’d gone blind. He was terrified. He wanted to scream, to call out for his mother, why would she let this happen, why would she let the monster take him? Everything hurt, it felt like he was falling apart, melting, burning, freezing, and squeezed impossibly tight all at the same time, for what felt like forever. 

And just like that, he was free. 

He felt his body tumble over the ground, the cursed fluid surrounding him spilling out in a puddle around him--it was just like he’d hatched again. Once was tiring enough, this was unfair. He opened his eyes and cried out when he saw the hand of the monster reach for him again, scooping him out of the puddle and up towards its face. 

He shuddered and kept crying at it wiped the excess fluid off him--the sounds it was making we loud and deep, directed at the other, smaller monster standing beside it. The sounds were like the ones the monsters that brought him mother food would make, but it was all much scarier now.

He saw the surroundings change as the monster began to walk again. He clung to its hand desperately, only just now noticing something of vital importance.

His beak was gone. 

As was his much thinner body from before--he felt overencumbered… His claws, his feet were all fat and stubby, his talons looked minuscule, his face felt flat and smushed, and his stomach was as round as the egg he escaped into the world from. Nothing hurt anymore, but overwhelming wrongness made him cry louder. He wished and hoped with all his might that he was being taken back to his mother, she must know a way to fix this, or at least a way to comfort him, to keep him from being hurt ever again--

His thoughts were interrupted when he was dropped into a pile of other round, soft, and sometimes pointy things. He looked at them all, and what was around them. Tall wooden beams made a square around then, with one giant flat square on top, casting a shadow over them. The others, they were like his brothers and sisters, but… not? Other hatchlings. They looked just as scared as he felt, and they were all shaking. One bright pink one was sniffling and whimpering, and it suddenly reached out and clung to him when the box began to shift and roll across the ground, the world beyond the bars moving in tandem.

He clung right back.


	2. Chapter 2

“But if our troop is being surrounded, you should try to get OUT of there--If you stay, you’ll be picked off one by one, the king will be stuck in the center and killed!”

“Yeah, well maybe that won't be an issue, by making sure we DON’T get trapped. This isn’t transmutation alchemy, Nomura--stop trying to excuse your stupid plan, you KNOW it’ll get us killed, and frankly, I’d rather live past 25…”

“Charging in blindly is exactly what the enemy DOESN’T expect us to do, we’ll have the element of surprise!”

“No, we won't, and yeah, they don’t expect it, because there's too many ways for it to fail--the risk isn’t worth it!” Stricklander rubs his eyes with his palms. The rest of their little team was crouched with them behind the giant rock they used for cover. Today was battle strategy lessons by first hand practice--it bonused as a bit of natural selection. Winning was very important, especially if you were chosen to play “King”, just like little green Stricklander had been this unlucky day. 

“You do realize my life is on the line, right? Me? Your best friend?” Stricklander reiterated, making the pink changeling roll her eyes.

She sighed, “Fine. But ONLY because you’re plans ALWAYS work. If there was even a chance your’s would fail, i’d go for my plan. I still wanna see how it would work out.”

The winged changeling stood up, satisfied, “Thank you. Is everyone clear on the plan I told you all earlier? Your places? Your roles?” he asked, grinning when the other changeling children nodded, “Then lets go kick some tail!” 

The troop of toddler sized changelings romped out into the arena, the enemy team following suit. The teaching troll stood tall, towering high enough to see the whole arena, “Are you ready now?” she asked in disdain. The children roared in affirmation. 

She flourished her hand, “Go to your positions, initiate when ready.” she ordered, sitting back down with her legs and arms crossed. 

The rules of the game were fairly simple; Kill the entirety of the rival team, or their ‘king’, to win. Most players try to hide their King, but it wasn’t easy, and was never a guaranteed success--which is where Stricklander’s plan plays a twist.

The two groups collectively looked to each other before stalking away to begin. 

The arena was littered with stones, crystals, craters, and hills, and Stricklander had planned accordingly. He climbed up to the peak of a glowing green crystal, peering over the tip top of it--he could see them winning now. He was the bait. The pyre he sat atop was a realistic place that most would try to hide a King player, because it was hard to climb. So he’d sit up there to lure the enemy team’s forces to this side of the field, leaving their king defenseless. 

Of course, Stricklander would be a fool to think that none of the other team’s members couldn’t scale his tower--This strategy was speed and stealth oriented, and, really, its success (as well as the little changeling’s life) teetered on his ability to glide straight and true. 

If he as a King player gets to slay the other King himself, well, that would be the little bonus he’d kept a secret from his team--he always did have an affinity for theatrics.

Even without a mark, both teams knew when to begin. 

Stricklander watched with a childish grin as his team snuck around the edges of the field, completely evading the other team as they padded in a loose blob across the center of the arena straight towards him. 

The leader (not their King, thankfully) kicked the base of the crystal and laughed, “Aw wow, a little birdy hiding in a tree--these dweebs are stupider than we thought. Durtah, Graak, get climbing, this’ll be a piece of… I don’t even know what, but it’ll be easy!” 

Stricklander felt his lip curl into a sneer as he tried to hide his ‘just according to plan’ giggles, “I wouldn’t be so suuure…”

“What did you say, rat?!”

Stricklander hopped up and sat daintily at the top with his legs crossed, “I was just lamenting my woes! Oh, how I thought I would survive this, yet here I sit, surrounded by a bunch of slimy, disgusting, vicious little gruesome-looking whelps conniving to kill me!” he leaned back and rest his hand on forehead with a wail of faux dismay, “Oh whatever shall I do?” he dropped the act with a taunting snicker, looking back down--the two changelings climbing to him were slow, but already about halfway up. 

The burly little leader down on the ground snarled before laughing back, “Oh well my bad, your majesty, It appears we’ve been mistaken anyways--we’re looking for the king, not a queen.” he called up confidently.

Stricklander stood straight up, his entire body flushed hot in anger and the hair on his scruff standing on end, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU-- YOU--” He looked up at just the right moment, seeing his team’s signal across the arena. He smirked at the changelings on the ground, “You losers!”

He knelt and scooted back as well has he could, his wings unfurling--he catapulted off the crystal, wings held taught. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as he glided halfway across the arena--he didn’t have enough momentum to go all the way.

He cursed and looked behind him. The enemy changelings were practically right underneath him. He found his wings beginning to quiver with the urge to flap but resisted it. He didn’t know how to fly yet, only glide. He’d plummet to the ground if he tried…

He turned slightly to the left, aiming for another crystal to land on top of, searching for his own team’s whereabouts. He couldn’t find them, and that was not good. He saw the other team heading somewhere else though, so that gave him an idea of where to go. He hopped from crystal to crystal after them, calling out to his friend, “NOMURA! JUST KILL IT NOMURA, DON’T WAIT FOR ME, JUST KILL IT!” 

He leapt up a boulder and rounded the top, finding the little cove his team and the other team had congregated in-- the other team’s leader was standing over two of his teammates, one already a pile of ash, the other being gored right before his eyes. His stomach twisted and he thought he’d be sick. 

Nomura was scrambling up the other side of the cove with one other teammate-- and the enemy team was advancing them. Stricklander’s wings began to beat, propelling him faster as he sprinted around the rim of boulders, reaching out and yanking Nomura out of there and towards the tallest boulder. She clung to him and he clung back.

He looked down at the enemies. They were all that was left of their team, and the other bastards hardly even had any scratches on them. 

Nomura looked catatonic. Stricklander shook her by the shoulders but she didn’t respond, only hugging her knees and quaking in fear. The winged changeling made a sound of distress-- Two of the other changelings had reached the top and were almost upon them. Stricklander turned to them, talons crooked and teeth bared, prepared to fight. 

The burly one from before was the one who growled back at him first, “What did I tell ya’, guys? Easy.” 

Stricklander’s hair bristled on end again, his tail lashing threateningly, “I’m not dead yet, scum!” he shrieked, going for the other’s legs, beginning a flurry of biting, clawing, and screeching fury. 

Stricklander was startled when the other changeling suddenly started glowing and disintegrating into a puff of ash and gravel. He scrambled back to gain his bearings before grinning hungrily at the other changeling, who’s face had blanched in sudden fear, “What’s wrong? I thought you said it’d be easy! Don’t hold back now!” He yelled, swiping at him and knocking him down into the cove. Stricklander prepared to dive in after him before the ground shook by way of a booming voice.

“CEASE.” 

The changelings all do as commanded, looking up to find the source. They all blanch upon seeing Gunmar himself, in all his malevolent glory, standing where their teacher had sat (said teacher pushed off to the side looking just as stressed and confused as the kids were). The little ones all scrambled out to the center of the field to properly greet the Underlord, dusting the remains off of themselves in an effort to look at least somewhat presentable.

Gunmar smiled inwardly at watching the children scramble out into the open. His gaze narrowed onto his target--the little stalkling child. 

He’d seen the whole game play out, and though he was disappointed by the near-end result, he felt confident in the child’s potential. Today was the day he planned to introduce the changeling to his son. He’s glad he didn’t wait as he’d planned to-- a dead advisor would not be as effective as a living one, one could surmise. 

Once the children had all knelt, he spoke once more, “This game is dismissed, all of you may leave.” He ordered, crossing his arms. They all looked confused as they stood, until Gunmar continued, “Stricklander, you stay. I am in need of you. Come follow me.” the troll finished, turning away from the balcony and walking away. 

It was Stricklander’s turn to go catatonic. Nomura shoved him forward, “Hurry, don’t keep him waiting! One near death experience a day is already enough, dont tempt him!” She trotted off quickly, steering away from the othe group as she left.

Stricklander forced himself to clamber up the balcony to go meet the Underlord, his heartstone pulsing rapidly in his chest. 

The Underlord was over by the cave mouth that led out of the arena cavern. The changeling padded forward slowly with wide eyes, struck into silence by the sheer size of the troll compared to him. Gunmar looked down at him calmly, “Stricklander. Tell me, do you have any idea why I wanted to see you?” 

Stricklander just shook his head.

Gunmar chuckled, kneeling down and scooping the changeling up, “Well, then let’s have you find out.” He put Stricklander on his shoulder. The winged changling’s claws latched to the stoneflesh like iron out of stress. 

Gunmar rose and eyebrow as he began to walk, “Relax. No harm will come to you.” 

Stricklander didn’t believe him, but he did his best to relax anyway. He took a breath, building up the courage to speak, “C-.... Can I.. ask why you want me? Have I done something wrong?” He blurted.

Gunmar gave him a look before shaking his head, “No, you have not done anything wrong. But, I am glad you asked.” he smiled, meeting the child’s eyes for a moment, “I’m sure you’re aware that I have a son.” 

Stricklander nodded, his face contorted in a bit of distrust already--he’d certainly heard of Bular. Needless to say, a good chunk of the descriptions were not exactly good.

“My son will be taking my place should I ever… Bite the dust, or grow too old to preform my duties. In preperation for that, I have selected you to be raised to be his advisor when such a time shall arrive. As much as I pride myself in my whelp and his potential, I would be stupid to assume he could rule on his own.” Gunmar summarized as they walked--Stricklander could see the Underlord’s palace’s ornately decorated entrance in the distance. 

The little changeling sat up as he absorbed the information. He was expected to work along side Gunmar’s son??? 

Gunmar took the young changling’s silence as signal to continue, “Today you two will only be introduced-- you will go back to the Changeling caverns after to continue your training for a while longer.” he trailed of, watching the faux-stalkling’s reaction as they entered his throneroom. 

The changeling’s jaw dropped--the room was huge, the ceiling was hardly even visible it was so high up! Stricklander looked back to Gunmar, “Why introduce me to him now? Why not let me finish my training first?” 

Gunmar continued down one of the halls that led off the room, “A good question to ask. The reason is simply that I believe it will make it easier for you two to work together in the future, because you will have known each other longer. For example… That pink friend of yours.” 

Stricklander’s ears perked.

“You two have been friend’s since near birth so I’ve heard. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two work well together, do you not?” Gunmar asked.

The green changeling grimanced and shrugged, “Ehh.. More or less.” 

Gunmar chuckled, “That’s more than I can say for me and my past advisors. You understand why now--growing up together will create a bond of trust.”

“That is.. smart.”

“I know.” Gunmar concluded the conversation by entering a new cave. It was decently sized, and was littered wall to wall with toys, fake weapons, practice dummies, and leftover food scraps of all sorts. Stricklander resisted the urge to turn up his nose at the mild sour stench. 

“Bular.” Gunmar said expectantly. Stricklander watched with a yelp as a pile of leathers and gravel seemed to animate, shifting and growing before the face of a particularly grouchy looking troll whelp peered out.

“What?” it huffed whiningly. 

Gunmar reached up, grabbed the retreating changeling and sitting down, “I’ve brought you a friend.” 

The grumpy little troll immediately perked up with a grin, “One my age?!” he wasted no time in explosively exiting the pile, leather and rocks flying in all directions. 

Gunmar chuckled as he watched the little changeling hide behind his much larger fingers, Bular running around in suit to try and see his new companion. Eventually, though, the whelp grew tired of the game, pouting up at his father angrily, “Why won’t it come out?!” 

Gunmar gave him a thoughtful look before looking to the shivering changeling--proceeding to lift his hand a bit and turning it to the side. From this angle, Bular could finally see the green stoneflesh of his proclaimed ‘friend’. His eyes widened excitedly Gunmar turned his hand over more, nearly tipping Stricklander right over onto the ground, “She’s pretty!!!” Bular stood on his tiptoes, one hand reaching up to grab Stricklander’s tail to pull him down.

The little changeling did not appreciate that, nor the comment on his looks, so he lashed out accordingly with a kick and a shout, “I’M NOT A GIRL!”

Bular stumbled back from the kick right onto his butt. Stricklander huffed in satisfaction before a chill ran down his spine. He looked back up to Gunmar with wide eyes, fearful of the underlord’s reaction to him kicking the trolls son. Gunmar did not look pleased, but the look dissipated with a heavy sigh, “A certain measure of spirit is good in any counsel. I’ll let you two work out your boundaries for yourselves.” And with that, the changeling fell to the floor, yelping when he hit the stone.

Bular scrambled over and grabbed him immediately in a tight hug that made the changeling squeal in surprise, “Hi!!!”

Stricklander pushed him at arms length, taking a second to get his baring before breathlessly replying, “Hi..! Um--”

“What’s your name??” The coal colored whelp asked.

“... Stricklander.”

“That’s too long, but ok!” He said simply. Stricklander gave him a look before looking up to Gunmar--who was exiting the room. The changeling almost called after him but decided against it. He looked back to Bular.

He glanced down for a moment, “So…”

“Wanna play a game? Friends are supposed to play games.”

The winged whelp nodded reluctantly, then vigorously. This was an amazing opportunity for him, and he wasn’t going to throw it away by half-assing it. Besides, Bular didn’t even seem that bad! Just a little.. Brutish. And blunt. 

“Sure, what game?”


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t know any, so you pick.”

“What do you mean you don’t know any?”

“I don’t know any games.”

Stricklander blinked in shock, “You don’t… You don’t know ANY games?”

Bular shook his head, “Nnnnope! My father doesn’t usually let me play with other kids, so.. I’ve never gotten to play any or hear of any. I just know that they’re, like… a thing kids do.”

Stricklander sighed, “Ok, then um… Let’s start simple. We’ll work our way up from easy games to super hard games. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good to me! Where do we start?”

The changeling hummed. There were lots of options, like Hide and go Kill, or Chase (till Death), or even Tag with a Knife, but…He should probably cut out the dangerous parts out. If today’s close encounter was a good example, it wouldn’t be a good idea to hurt Bular, or let him get hurt. He finally made a choice.

“How about tag with a knife, but without the knife part?”

Bular cocked his head to the side, “The knife part?”

The changeling nodded, “Yeah, we gotta not have that part of it, because friends don’t stab each other.” Bular nodded as if he understood, but he did still look confused. Stricklander shrugged it off in favor of explaining this safe-for-princes version of the game, “So basically, we just run after each other till one of us tags the other, then we can switch, and the other person is it! If you’re running you can also hide, or climb, or, in my case--” he pointed behind himself and fluttered his wings, “Fly. Or at least try to--I can only glide right now.” he added the last part with a sheepish shrug.

Bular considered the rules for a moment before grinning mischievously, “Sounds fun…. Alright. Can I go first?”

Stricklander grinned back, “Sure! Ok, on my cou--”

“ONE TWO THREE GO!” The troll whelp screamed, barreling the stalkling over roughly, sending them both tumbling across the floor. Stricklander was squeaking in surprise and slight pain as they rolled across the hard surface.

“WAIT, WAIT! YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG!!!” He shouted back, his head spinning after being released from the other’s grip, “You have to give me a chance to run! Otherwise it’s no fun!”

Bular gave him a disappointed look, “I dunno, it was fun to me.”

Stricklander facepalmed exaggeratedly, “You just want to wrestle, don’t you?”

Bular responded by tackling him again with excited laughter, “If that’s what this is called, then yes!!!”

~~~

An entire day of playing left the changeling absolutely exhausted. 

When Gunmar had finally returned to take the winged whelp back to it’s home, the two children were huddled up in Bular’s giant bed of leathers, with the darker colored child absentmindedly fiddling with the nearly passed out changeling’s wings. He jumped up excitedly at the appearance of his sire, “Father!!!!” he yelled, running over his friend and scaling up his father’s leg and torso, hugging the Underlord’s face, whispering another excited thank you for being brought a friend.

Stricklander forced himself to sit up, tripping out of the nest. Gunmar shook his head with a chuckle, “I’m glad to see neither of you are dead,” He picked the green whelp up, “Though perhaps I shouldn’t speak too soon.”

Stricklander forced himself to waken more, shaking his head, “I’m fine! I’m ok, just tired. He’s… very active. And strong. We spent most of the day play fighting.” He explained, trying to stand up in Gunmar’s hand, “He’s really good. He’ll make a great warrior, I think.”

The adult troll smiled, “Singing my son’s praises already? You really were made for this job.” Stricklander felt his face flush with heat and his wings flutter in response to the…. Was it even a compliment? Whatever it was, it made him feel fantastic.

Gunmar let the two sit on his shoulder when he began his way to the changeling caverns. He let Stricklander lead him to the place he usually slept, setting the changeling down and turning to leave. Bular and Stricklander waved to each other over the Underlord’s shoulder.

Stricklander, all in all, felt amazing. He felt very… Fulfilled. He finally had a concrete future, and even better, it was a future in a very high position in this society! He’d be held in high regard by trolls and changelings alike. He twirled around and headed into the boarding hut, excited to tell Nomura the good news. 

Walking inside was different from normal. All the other children were looking at him with slack jaws. He felt very awkward as he made his way to Nomura down at the other end of the hut. She practically threw him into their shared bunk nest.

“What the hellfire happened while you were gone?! Was that Bular waving at you?! You have to tell me EVERYTHING!” She demanded, shaking him violently. 

He giggled, “I was planning on telling you anyway, calm down!” He pushed her till she was seated across from her, “Yeah, that was Bular.”

Nomura was just quivering in disbelief and excited, “It was?! Oh my gosh this is so cool!! Are you, like, his friend now?? Was it on accident?”

“Gunmar planned it. Apparently I’m going to be raised with Bular, so I can help him be a good leader when he takes his father’s place.” Stricklander explained with a grin, “It’s incredible, right?! That I out of all of us was picked!”

“Not only that, you were picked despite being a changeling. Is this gonna get in the way of you.. Um..” the pink whelp trailed off, picking at a chip in her hoof almost worriedly.

Stricklander gave her a confused expression, “My plans to lead the Janus Order?”

“No.”

“Me finishing my training?”

“Well, no--”

“My chances of getting a familiar and a mission up on the surface?”

“No, you-- Ugh, Is it going to get in the way of us?” she finally burst, crossing her arms with an irritated growl.

The winged changeling was shocked she’d even think this would get in the way of their friendship, “‘Mura, you know it won’t. We’ve been inseparable since longer than I can remember. I won’t let something like this get between us. I promise.” he vowed, enveloping his best friend in a tight hug. Nomura hesitates but hugs back just as tightly with a bittersweet laugh.

“I’m holding you to that, Strickler.”

~~~

The next day started out like every other day-- the roar of an overly aggressive troll scaring the changelings awake, only a few minutes given to get dressed and washed up before being ushered off to a seperate cavern to be sent off for whatever training classes they were to take that day.

Stricklander and Nomura ran off in tandem--they’d memorized their class rotations, and today they shared a particularly disliked but necessary class; weaponized combat. Necessary because they were being raised into killing machines, disliked because sparring matches were to the death. 

Stricklander and Nomura had no real trouble in this class though--they simply paired up together and went awol till the end of class, being shockingly evenly matched and… ‘Unable’ to best each other. 

Lying is a tool of survival for changelings, and the pair of friends were prone to overuse when it came to protecting each other.

After being dismissed to go, they padded off to the cave decked wall to wall with weapons, grabbing the classes’ current topic of practice; knives. Stricklander was particularly excited-- Today they’d be attempting to throw them. He’s never done it before, but he always thought it looked really cool. 

Really, the stalkling was a fan of most projectile weapons. He occasionally has dreams of flying while flinging all sorts of sharp utensils at his foes, an elegant deliverer of death and terror.

He sighed dreamily at the prospect.

“Stricklander, pay attention.” The teacher jogged him out of his daydream, her untroll-like shrill voice grating against his ears unpleasantly. She glared at him as he plopped down on the floor with the rest of the whelps before returning to the start of her lesson, “As I was saying. For the past month we have been focussed on the basics of small blade handling and opportunity--how to hold them securely, where knives can be hidden on your body should you need one in an emergency, and, most importantly, the angles and force needed in order to use one to inflict the maximum amount of damage possible.” 

As she spoke, she flung and twirled a blade around in her hands artistically, a grin creeping into her face, “Today, we finally step into my favorite aspect of knife wielding--our ability to throw them with devastating accuracy,” she said, swinging her arm back and then forward, the small blade circulating over the whelps heads and lodging into the far wall with a metallic thwck, “Delivering swift, but still painful and thoroughly calculated death!”

Stricklander’s tail wagged excitedly as she continued, “The wooden boards behind me will serve as your targets today. Do your best not to stab yourselves and just try to do what you think is ‘correct’--I will be walking down to assist in adjusting and fixing your posture and form as needed. Now go get started.”

Nomura yelped when Stricklander yanked her to the nearest board by sprinting under the teacher’s feet. She sat with a huff as her friend stole her knife to begin his attempts, “You could have gone for more that weren’t mine, you know.” 

Stricklander shook his head, “I don’t trust you to keep dibs on our board--erm, no offense?” He laughed a bit as he widened his stance, imitating all the times he’d seen older changelings practicing.

“None taken because you’re right, I wouldn’t have.” She replied with a smirk, leaning back, “Now are you gonna throw or not? I do wanna get to try too, you know.”

Stricklander nodded, inhaling, holding it, then swinging his arm back and throwing on his exhale. The blade kurthunked against the wood as it bounced off harmlessly. 

Nomura held back her sputtering laughter as well as she could but failed. The embarrassed whelp shot her a murderous look, wings flapping angrily, “Oh shut up!!! It’s harder than it looks!”

“Oh is it? Then let me try, let’s see just how hard it is to throw a chunk of sharp metal.” She challenged, standing up and holding out her hand expectantly. Stricklander handed her back her knife and crossed his arms with his cheeks puffed up indignantly.

Nomura didn’t prep her stance much, only turning to the side a bit before holding her arm back, bouncing the knife in her hand with a hum. Her other arm extended forward to balance her out, then she swung. 

Her blade, too, clattered to the floor uselessly. 

She copied her friend’s murderous glare from before when she heard the stalkling blow a taunting raspberry at her.

“I told you!” He affirmed before trotting forward to grab their knives again.

She grumbled to herself before sighing, “May it’s because we’re too close? The handle of it is what’s hitting the board… And when it’s flying it goes in circles, so maybe it needs more space for the blade to hit?” She suggested.

“Yes, that exactly.” The teacher answered as she approached-- her hooved feet were somehow silent, it was rather unnerving, “Either scoot back, scoot forward, or hold it by the blade rather than the handle.” She elaborated, crouching down, “Here, get in position Stricklander, I’ll help.”

The child obeyed, getting in his own stance and letting the teacher move his body to edit the position as need, “Keep your feet apart, but still pointed forward, and keep your body vertical--Chin up angled slightly down, arm out in front of you, yes, like that-- and keep your wrist slack, don’t grip the knife too tight.” She aided.

Nomura watched attentively, and she wasn’t the only one. On the far side of the cave, near the door, Gunmar stood with his arms crossed, watching with the company of two guards and his son, resting contently upon his shoulder.

Bular was far less interested than everyone else, boredly gnawing on a block of petrified wood, “Mmm… Father?”

“Yes?”

“Why do we only get to watch? They’re all my age, shouldn’t I be learning that stuff too?”

Gunmar made a thoughtful grunt, his eyebrows raising for a moment before narrowing them, “You will be learning to fight soon, my son. But not yet, and never with them. They are beneath us.”

Bular scrunched up his nose at that, “But isn’t everyone?” the Underlord chuckled at that, but Bular shook his head, sitting up to continue, “But really. Why not let me? You brought one to be my friend, so if they are good enough to be my friend, why are they not good enough to train with?”

Gunmar frowned, “They are pawns. Stricklander will only serve as your friend for now. Later, as you grow, he will be your eyes and ears in the sunlight. He is a tool. A pet, even. Ultimately, he is replaceable.” Though I’d rather it won’t come to that. It would be… Inconvenient, and a waste of a stalkling hatchling.

Bular looked down, “Oh… Well…” He looked up with a determined face, “Maybe I’ll stay friends with him my whole life anyways. You can’t make me stop being his friend. That’s my choice!” 

The adult troll growled softly and gave his son a look of warning, “Friendship and attachment are weaknesses. Keeping those you love close to you is dangerous. They could be used against you. They could betray you.”

Bular crossed his arms, “You keep me close, and you’ve said that you lo--” his father shushed him with a claw . Bular swatted it away with an irritated growl, “Doesn’t that mean i’m all those things?”

Gunmar sighed, “You are, but you are a calculated risk.”

“Well then maybe he can be my calculated risk.”


	4. Chapter 4

Stricklander fell limp over Bular’s back, chin nestled right between the troll’s horns, “So, we’re going to the surface today.”

 

Bular was whining from his position underneath Stricklander, but his tail was still wagging in spite of it, “Yeah… Father said it’s going to be for your benefit,” he sighed. 

 

The changeling rolled over to curl up against the leathers of Bular’s bed to ask his next question face to face with his companion, “What does  _ that _ mean?”

 

Bular turned over with an expression of childish dismay, “I don’t wanna say.”

 

“Please?”

 

“No! Father will tell you.”

 

Strickler sat up and crossed his arms, “Then why’d you have to taunt me like that?!” he huffed, his nostril flaring in slight irritation.

 

The coal colored whelp laughed and reached over to pull the green one into a tight hug, “To make you angry, it’s funny!” he pressed his face into Stricklander’s shoulder, giggling when the changeling just groans in exaggerated irritation before returning the hug.

 

Gunmar made a disgruntled sound from the mouth of the small cave. The children scramble away from each other, greeting him in tandem, “Is it time to go?!”

 

The underlord rolled his eyes, mildly amused by their eagerness but his lips stayed a straight line, “Yes. Come along now.”

 

The two whelps dash over and scale the adult’s body--Stricklander with the assistance of his wings finally. He was by no means an expert flyer, but he was definitely making progress, the appendages usefully now in helping him jump up previously impossible heights. Gunmar waits for the two to settle on his shoulder before beginning his way to the bridge, tailed by a set of ten guards.

 

Stricklander’s eyes widened when he saw the bridge--it was a lot bigger than he’d thought it would be. It was magnificent. He did not have nearly enough time to admire it, however, because Gunmar wasted no time walking through the portal.

 

The changeling had to close his eyes to shield himself from the bright lights surrounding the gateway. Once through, he opened them to be faced with a landscape completely alien compared to everything he’d ever seen in the Darklands. 

 

It was still dark, but the little light that was here was softer. The air was colder, and held the scents of so many new things, all of them foreign and bizarre. Tall structures towered over them, soft swaying limbs in the chilly breeze emanating a murmured rustling, the gentlest sound the changeling had ever heard. Beyond the rustling, green tinted canvas was….

 

“That’s… The sky?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, wavering with sheer  _ amazement _ . Gunmar nodded, looking upward with his charges silently.

 

Stricklander was mesmerized. Those twinkling lights, those must be stars. His teachers had taught him about them--how to use them to navigate, mostly--but none of them had ever mentioned their beauty. He had no doubt that even if they  _ had,  _ no words could ever do them justice.

 

His daze was interrupted when Gunmar and his guards began to walk once again. The crunch of foliage beneath the trolls’ feet was another marvel to wonder at. It was calming, the sound of leaves crunching, coupled with the… Trees? That sound, the rustling their still living leaves, and even that distant, melodious sets of small whistles and chirps from the ground. He had no idea what the creature that sound was from was called, but it was just as fascinating as everything else here regardless.  

 

Soon, the trees thinned out and stopped all together, revealing rolling hills of grass and wheat. In the distance, a golden spot of buildings, the area around the wooden and cobblestone structures illuminated orange and yellow by the glow of torches.

 

Gunmar glanced to Stricklander, crossing his arms, “Can you tell me what that is?”

 

The changeling, actually, could not. So he shook his head.

 

Gunmar chuffed, “It’s a human village.” 

 

Stricklander’s head tilted as he considered that for a moment, while Bular finally spoke up, “Why is it on fire?” 

 

Gunmar chuckled, “It isn’t. They use torches.” 

 

Bular scoffed, “Humans are smart enough to control  _ fire _ ?” he crossed his arms, “I find that hard to believe.” The little insult made Stricklander and Gunmar both sputter into laughter for a moment. 

 

“Indeed. The moment they discovered how was a shock to all Trolls.” Gunmar explained, turning to the platoon of soldiers behind him, “Tonight, you two will witness the destruction of this village.” He motioned with his arm, and the soldiers all nodded, beginning a subdued march towards the village, clearly having stealth in mind. 

  
  


Stricklander felt his stomach drop a little, “Why bring us?”

 

The warlord replied simply, “You’d need to see something like it eventually. I say, the sooner the better. We can wade through the carnage, and… Perhaps, you both can have your first tastes of human flesh.” He grinned--it was the most fear-inducing expression the little changeling had ever seen. Bular, clearly, did not feel the same way, crawling around his father’s neck while emitting a chorus of delighted giggling.

 

Stricklander was torn further into his horror when he heard screaming. Distant, warbled, high pitched screaming--distinctly untroll-like. In any other context, he thinks he’d find the sound to be almost pleasant compared to the gravely tone most trolls and changelings have.

 

Watching the village now, he sees that the fiery glow from the torches had grown, for it was  _ actually  _ on fire now. Gunmar began to trample his way down to it with a monstrous roar, the changeling and troll whelps on his back now, clinging to his fur for dear life. 

 

Huddled close to the troll’s living stone, Stricklander watches through his loose hair as they pass by the burning buildings, the screams louder in volume but decreased in quantity. He could not comprehend the situation, his eyes wide in terror yet he couldn’t really  _ see _ what was happening, his ears were unblocked but the sounds had all coalesced into a buzzing ring, an impenetrable din so cocophous he may as well have had cotton stuffed in them.

 

He lashed out violently when a giant hand removed his from his perch, resulting in his being dropped into the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, crouched low to the ground as he looked up to Gunmar. The underlord gave him an unreadable expression that did nothing to help the changeling’s mental state. He jerked his chin, prompting Stricklander to turn around. He does as ordered.

 

He immediately regrets it.

 

It was a human body. He’d never seen a human before, but he could tell. That was the only thing it could possibly be. Its body was mangled, chunks of flesh gouged out, modest clothing torn beyond repair, its face twisted in pain, but still pale and dull. Inanimate. He felt trapped in its lifeless gaze, like  _ he’d _ been the one to end its life. He heaved silently as he absently watched Bular circle around him, crawling to the other side of the body.

 

Seeing his friend so eagerly begin to feast of the poor mortal’s corpse was… Difficult to witness.

 

“Gunmar, what a surprise to see you here,” a gentle, feminine voice spoke above the crackle of the flames and innocent screams. Stricklander looked up and saw her.

 

It was a human woman. Or… She looked human. She certainly did not seem to behave like one, given her lack of fear and impeccable appearance as she strode elegantly towards them in the midst of the disaster.

 

Her hair was long and wavy, shimmering in hues that mirrored the color of the surrounding flames, and her dress was draped flush against her full frame, painting her the color of the peaceful tree leaves the changeling had seen not even an hour before. She was beautiful. 

 

Gunmar only huffed back in response, “Greetings, witch.” 

 

The woman let out a shockingly gentle, mocking laugh, “Such crass language, after all the assistance I’ve provided you, you’d ought to show me a bit more respect!” She offered a smile, but it was not one of sincerity, “I knew we’d arranged to meet tonight, but I was not expecting to be given such a show!”

 

As she stepped closer, she finally noticed the two whelps. Her eyebrows perk up when she looks at Stricklander before her smile brightens. She lowers herself to the ground behind Bular, reaching a beckoning hand forward, “Come here, little one.” 

 

Bular watches his friend leap into the woman’s hands with a growl, “Hey! Put him down!” He demands, going to bite the woman, but he misses, falling to the ground with a yelp. 

 

The woman shakes her head with a breathy laugh, “Is that your son?” she asked casually, holding Stricklander to her chest.

 

Gunmar in turn, grabbed his son by the scruff, putting the angry whelp on shoulder, “Yes, but that is  _ irrelevant _ . We have already discussed what you are to do.” 

 

“Of course, of course, I’m just the middle woman, nothing more, nothing less. I’ll have him introduced to his new family within a week. No need to rehash the briefing,” she replied coolly. 

 

Gunmar nodded, “Good. Now go.”

 

The woman nods, turning on her heel to leave the way she came, quivering changeling still in her arms. Stricklander looks up at her, crawling up to look over her shoulder--Bular was hitting his father’s head in the distance, clearly distressed over having the other child taken away like that. He sighs lightly before settle down again, “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Taking me away from that body.”

 

“Ah, in that case, you’re welcome.”

 

“Where are you taking me?”

 

“To the human family you’ll be staying with.” 

 

Stricklander huffed, “Well I know  _ that _ , you said it earlier--but you said it’d take up to a week. Where are we going  _ right _ now?” 

 

The woman chuckled, “Just back into the woods, then closer to the home you’ve been selected to enter. It’s not far from here.” 

 

The changeling was content with this answer for now, nestling into the crook of her arm and wrapping himself in his wings, “Okay. I want to sleep.”

 

“Alright. Sleep well. I will wake you up soon, little one.”

 

~~~

 

Stricklander was, indeed, awoken. The woman had tapped his nose gently before putting him on the ground. The frost and dew on the undergrowth touching his bare skin had him bright eyed and jumping quickly enough.

 

The woman was clearly amused when he hopped around in an attempt to get out of the cold material, carelessly clawing his way up the side of her dress and clinging to her hip. His face was more astonished than distressed, however.

 

She was still walking them farther through the woods. She scooped him up into her arms again, allowing him to relax and observe their new surroundings. The trees were taller here, and thicker in the canopy than in the lower areas. There were large gaps between the trunks that made it possible to see all the way to the end of the tree line. Beyond that, Stricklander could see the silhouette of something large, spanning the whole horizon. Jagged and sharp, like some monstrous beast had clawed out the bottom of the light, almost starless sky. 

 

The… Light sky. 

 

His eyes widened in realization, mouth agape in soundless bafflement. He turned to the woman--she was grinning from ear to ear as she looked at him, “Are you excited?”

 

He just looked back forward, wings flapping a few times in pent up excitement--that is, to say, that he most certainly  _ was  _ excited. 

 

Soon, they’d breached the tree line--they were on the top of a steep hill, with a perfect view of the foggy mountain range, and the horrifyingly gorgeous sunrise to come in only a matter of minutes.  

 

She lowers herself into the grass, letting the changeling sit in the cup of her crossed legs, “Gunmar didn’t want me to waste any time, but in my opinion? This will be no waste.” 

 

“I’m… My teachers told me it wouldn’t, but… The sunlight won’t hurt me, right?” he asked, watching the skyline intently despite his apparent worry.

 

“No, it won’t. A gift from both sides of your heritage, so I’m told,” she says, hummings softly as she plays with the whelp’s hair, sweeping it back between his tiny horns and loosely braiding it over and over, waiting for twilight to turn to dawn.

 

The pair are content to sit in silence, watching the sun rise in all its radiant glory. Stricklander had thought the stars the night before were lovely, but now, witnessing this magnificent array of colors painting themselves across the sky, he was certain that  _ this _ was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

 

Soon, the subtle outline of another small town could be seen in the distance, its torches all out-shined by the daylight. The woman brushes the child’s hair back forward to let gravity split it down the middle, the way it had looked before. Stricklander looked up to her and jumped up to hug around her neck, “Thank you for showing that to me.”

 

“You’re welcome, little one.” She smiled as she hugged him back, giving him a small kiss on the head before setting him back down, “We need to get back into the trees. We don’t want any of the farmers to see us up here, now do we?”

 

The changeling nods, stepping off of her lap and into the grass. He tugs a few blades out curiously, sniffing them as he spoke, “I probably should have asked this before, but what’s your name?”

 

“It would be better for us to not share our names,” she replied in a bittersweet tone.

 

“Why not?”

 

“We can’t get too close, or else we’ll get attached. It would just be a problem,” she explained, as if it was obvious.

 

Stricklander stared up at her when she stood, giving an unamused look, “Then why are you acting like some doting, overly-loving mother?”

 

The woman was taken aback by that, chuckling awkwardly for a second before waving it off rapidly to change the topic, “I suppose it just comes naturally--It’s to get you, uh.. Used to hoooow your familiar’s mother will treat you! Yes! That!” She snapped her fingers, tossing a loose lock of ruddy hair over her shoulder before continuing, “Here, we need to go now, I’ve got important things to teach you! Up up up!” She spun on her heel, speeding into the trees to recompose herself. The green whelp rolled his eyes but grinned, dashing into the foliage after her. 

 

Shade was cast over them completely once the woman had stopped, only the tiniest slivers of gold illumination slicing through the comforting green landscape. They were in a fairly large clearing, a broken ring of mushrooms lining the very rim. The woman stopped him before he was able to run in, “Wait for a moment! You need to be careful just aimlessly running through the woods. Do you know what this is?”

 

Stricklander was confused at first, taking a few steps back just to be safe--he finally noticed the toadstools. His eyes widened then narrowed in thought, “Umm.. It’s a fairy ring, right?” 

 

The woman grinned at that, “Indeed it is--a broken one. See how the barrier opens here, splitting to accommodate our path?” She knelt down, points to the short line of shrinking mushrooms lining the short distance between them and the actual ring. The changeling’s confusion increased.

 

“I’ve never heard of a…  _ broken _ fairy ring before. What’s it mean when its broken?” he asked.

 

The woman giggled as she stepped into the circle on her toes delicately, turning and tapping the side of her nose with a wink, “It means that a  _ certain _ someone made it  _ especially  _ to let a certain someone  _ else _ into it without trapping them in the fairy realm.”

 

Stricklander gasped, “You’re a FAIRY?!”

 

“I am indeed! Well… Half, anyway.” She shrugged at the last part, beckoning him in now, “I had to stop you before you ran in so I could properly invite you. Now it’s safe.” 

 

He hopped forward excitedly, spinning around in a circle in the center before sitting down, “Why’d you make a ring for me? Aren’t they only for dancing in? I thought you had things to teach me that were  _ important _ .”

 

The woman scoffed in mock offense, “Dancing can be important! Don’t be close minded. But you are in the right place to ask--that isn’t what I am going to teach you. The ring is only for shrouding us in invisibility from humans. There are a few humans that will be exploring near here later today. We will see them, they won’t see us.” 

 

“What if they run into the circle, like I almost did?” 

 

“They won’t. They know to watch their step--humans are scared of fairy rings.” 

 

Stricklander let out a soft ‘ooooh…’ of understanding. His tail patted the ground in the silence for a moment before he stood with a determined sigh, turning to face her with an equally determined smirk, “Alright, I’m ready then! Let’s get started.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“That fucking baby is  _ so  _ loud.” 

 

“Babies tend to be like that, Godwin. Shocking, I know.” 

 

The elder brother grumbled and tossed a glare at his younger sibling, Eadmund, “Yeah, no shit. I’ve spent long enough around  _ you  _ to have learned that by now.” he spat, lunging over a particularly tall tree root, snickering to himself when he hears his brother stumble and trip over it with a yelp.

 

The pair were very obviously brothers--both with messy dark brown hair and deep pink undertones to their skin, the only differences being their height and personalities. Godwin was nearly 17, a strapping young man who’d grown up with strength and courage in his veins, virtues tempered only by his ever so faint temper. Eadmund had only just turned 14, and he was a host of all the same amount of mischief as any other boy his age, taking great pleasure in annoying his brother and having fewer chores by virtue of being the youngest--but that’s not right, is it? 

 

He  _ was  _ no longer the youngest, as their humble farming family had recently been blessed with that horrendously loud baby brother, a baby brother who was aptly named something almost as obnoxious as his wailing cries for milk-- _ Waltholomew. _

 

Right now, they were out hunting in the place of their father, who their mother had kept home to watch the baby while she fixed the plow (they were seen as a bit of a controversial couple due to the wife having more experience in almost every field than her husband, but it hardly mattered to them--they were in love, and they worked well together, so who cares which of them did what post matrimony?). Godwin was looking forward to the day out, even if he had to take his brother out too. 

 

Once the eldest had decided they’d gone far enough, he pulled his bow off his back, “Ok. I’m going to be walking deeper in to see if I can find any deer. You stay here on the outskirts--make traps.” He ordered. Eadmund nodded and set off in the other direction, while Godwin faced the depths of the woods, letting out a sigh before standing taller, walking into the greenery with confidence.

 

~~~

 

Elsewhere, in that fairy ring clearing, a little changeling and a half fairy were in the thick of a very important lesson; how not to get killed by your host family.

 

“Humans have learned a lot about changelings over the years, despite the efforts to stay hidden. You are sent out too young, you don’t yet have the ability to distinguish between what an adult human can do and what a  _ baby  _ human can do.” The woman explained in an insistent tone, “And on top of that, they have crafted tricks that make you accidentally out yourselves--even magically objects that force you to reveal your true form.”

 

Stricklander was thoroughly stressed and anxious at learning all this new information, “W-well geez, humans are… A lot smarter than we thought, huh?”

 

“Smart indeed, and getting smarter. You will need to stay on your toes.”

 

“How can I avoid their tricks? What are the tricks? What does that… artifact they use look like?” Stricklander asked, forcing a stern, brave, and unphased look onto his face.

 

The woman chuckled, “Avoiding them is easy once you know how--All you have to do is start crying. Their tricks are them trying to confuse you into speaking words--whatever you do, do  _ not  _ talk around your familiar’s parents until they start trying to teach you too. And when that starts, you have to put on a convincing struggle to grasp the concept.”

 

The changeling nodded, scratching his head, “How do humans manage to confuse changeling’s into talking? Our training is impeccable, we should know not to talk already…”

 

“The most popular trick I’ve seen is boiling eggshells.”

 

The stalking child squawked in utter disbelief, “WHAT?! Why would they boil eggshells?! That’s ridiculous!!!”

 

The woman snorted in amusement, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

 

It took a moment, but he finally realized why she was laughing.

 

“....Alright, yeah, ok, humans are smart, they got us there!” He shrugged before loudly laughing at himself, the woman joining in immediately. They stay in hysterics for a while before being interrupted.

 

A smooth, young, masculine voice rings through the trees, seeming to silence the entirety of the forest itself, “Who’s out there?”

 

The woman reaches forward and pulls the startled changeling into her lap, whispering softly to him, “Don’t worry, he won’t see us. Just watch. See if you can spot him.”

 

Stricklander obeyed, scanning the scenery intently, ears perked to listen for the mysterious voice again. 

 

A boy walked through two trees, right into the pair’s view. His bow was held loosely in one hand at his side, relaxed as he glanced around, “I heard you laughing--come out now. People are hunting, you’ll get shot playing in the woods like--... This…” He trailed off when he seemed to look straight at the woman and her temporary charge, but he crouched down to examine the mushroom ring instead, muttering to himself with heavy concern. 

 

Stricklander crawled out of the woman’s arms slowly, approaching the edge of the ring to get a closer look at the human, who was completely unaware of his presence. The woman was actually a little concerned about this, slowly standing up and walking forward, whispering so softly it could have been a breeze, “ _ Little one… Come back… _ ”

 

Clearly, her voice was not soft enough.

 

The boy stumbled back with a gasp, bracing himself against a tree. This scared the changeling into scrambling back to the woman, sending up a cloud of leaves that frightened the boy into  _ running away,  _ with an actual scream too!

 

This made the woman’s face go pale, and the changeling giggle in malicious delight. 

 

She sighed and set the whelp down, shaking her head, “You trolls….”

 

~~~

 

“EADMUND, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Godwin was absolutely shaken, stumbling and trampling through the ferns and undergrowth like a drunkard--he was hardly even paying attention to where he was going. So of course, he crashed right into his brother, sending them both tumbling into the roots of an old oak.

 

“Fucking damn, what is it asshole?!” the younger brother snapped, shoving his sibling off and standing up to dust himself off.

 

“I found a fairy ring!!!”

 

“And? Those exist in the woods, this isn’t news.”

 

“The fairies, they  _ spoke  _ to me!” 

 

“Bull.”

 

The older brother was at his wit’s end, frazzled beyond belief, “We have to go home, NOW!” Now, Eadmund could fully hear the urgency in the other’s voice. He nodded in acceptance and let his frantic sibling drag him back home. 

 

Rushing past their mother in the field, ignoring her angry calls for them to slow down in favor of crashing into the house’s front door. The noisy ruckus of scared teenagers and banging against wood and stone triggered the immediate earsplitting screeches of a baby, followed closely by a distressed groan from it’s father, “BOYS! Boys, for goodness sake, keep it down!” 

 

“DAD! There’s fairies out there, in the forest! I found one! It  _ spoke  _ to me!” The son raved, dropping his stuff on the ground and waving his arms frantically. Eadmund looked to their father for his reaction, finding only a scowl on the man’s scruffy face.

 

“Godwin, you are better than this. Get the hell back out there--We are not going to go to bed hungry because of YOUR delinquency!” the man scolded, the baby quieting down for a moment before letting out another piercing shriek that only added to the unpleasantness of the situation. 

 

Godwin whimpered to himself, not wanting to get himself into further trouble. He grabs his head with a stressed groan before begrudgingly picking his bow back up and storming out the door once again. Eadmund stayed back, hoping to speak with his father out the outburst, but the supremely irritated look on his face scared the boy into walking right back outside.

 

Godwin led them somewhere else to hunt for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little shorter than normal, sorry! ill do my best to make the next chapter Significantly more juicy


End file.
